Bless the Children
by Mina3
Summary: A mostly fluffy take on the origin of the horrendous orange shirts that plague Ken and Ran in Weiss Kreuz Kapitel


**Bless the Children**  
by Mina

  


Standard disclaimers for _Weiss Kreuz_ apply. What, you thought I was going to say that I owned them? Yeah, I'm worth suing, really; I just have money in bundles, waiting around to be taken. And I'm a compulsive liar as well. Really, I've got nothing worth stealing, nothing worth suing for; believe me, I'm a university student, and I know I'm financially in a sorry state of affairs. I suppose I could give you my cat, but…he bites…hard…because for some reason he seems to thing he Felinecula or something and likes to leave fang marks in things. Like my plants…and my neck… ::sigh:: I love my Shin-shin Hebi, really. 

Warnings: Um, somewhat fluffy, shounen ai, and…insanity. This takes place waaay in the past—pre-Weiss, pre-Crashers, pre-Kritiker, pre-Aya-chan-in-a-coma. I was having a bad week and wanted to write something somewhat cute, and my roommate and I were having a discussion about how it seems that Ken and Aya share the same wardrobe in the _Weiß Kreuz ~Kapitel~_ series (you know, the orange stuff…), and this was kind of something that Aya had mentioned in passing in the _Dramatic Collection II – Endless Rain_ Radio Drama, so…this is what I came up with. ::huggles her K'lendel and Levin muses for support—then runs away from grape lollipops and fangs:: 

* * *

They stared at one another intently, unblinkingly, light-refracting violet locked with colour-shifting hazel. The minds behind the eyes weighed and measured, taking stock in a million silent ways the psyche that lay beyond.  
    "Jeeez, Ran-niichan, get off the ground already!"   
    The girl with her arms crossed over her chest stuck out her bottom lip in a pout as she whined. Her wide eyes—identical in shade to her brother's—were narrowed in a glare as the two boys turned to look at her.   
    The smaller boy took the opportunity provided by the momentary distraction to grab up his scattered belongings and shove them into his worn and tattered bag. Hugging it to his chest, he muttered an apology once again and raced past the siblings.   
    Ran frowned as he watched the boy go, nearly falling once again as he rounded the corner; his shoelaces were untied.   
    "Oi, Niichan, what's wrong?"   
    He looked over at his sister, slowly rising to his feet. She was tugging on one of her black pigtails, a frown on her face. "I dunno, Aya. That boy…"  
    She giggled, one hand coming up to cover her mouth as her eyes crinkled in delight; the hand did nothing to hide the blush staining her cheeks. "He was cute, Niichan. Why do you always get to run into the cute boys, hmmm?"   
    Ran scowled. Thirteen-year-old sisters were weird, he decided. Especially ones that liked to read things like "Yami no Matsuei" and "Gestalt." "He tripped and I wasn't paying attention, that's all," he said, searching for the contents of his backpack. He'd been trying to tell his mother for weeks that he needed a new one. Maybe now she'd believe him now.   
    "Sure, whatever."   
    Ran _really_ didn't like the look Aya was giving him; that sly, calculating, 'I'm-a-girl-and-I-know-everything' Look was enough to set his hair on end. "Could you help me find the rest of my stuff, please?"   
    Aya sighed but began to pick up pencils, pens, erasers, and papers, dutifully turning them over. She stopped as she picked up a small blue notebook, though, and frowned.   
    "What's wrong?"   
    "I don't remember you having any coloured notebooks," she said slowly.   
    "I don't."   
    "Hmmm, then…" She looked up, expression thoughtful. "Then that boy must've dropped it. Kyaaa, I knew it!"   
    Sighing, Ran shook his head. Great; now his sister was in 'squealing fan-girl mode.' "Knew what, Aya-chan?"   
    "That it was Destiny that made you two meet," she declared, brandishing the notebook at him as if it were a divine treasure from Buddha—or she was a heroine in a shoujo manga. "And this will bring you back together once again!"   
    …He really needed to talk with his mother about letting Aya read romance novels. Grabbing the notebook, he began to use it to beat his forehead, seeing as there wasn't a convenient wall about.   
    Aya gazed at her brother in concern. "Ran-niichan, what're you doing?"   
    "Aya"—_thwap_—"I'm a"—_thwap_—"fifteen"—_thwap_—"year old"—_thwap_—"boy!"   
    "…So?"   
    Sighing again, he slumped his shoulders in defeat, clutching the notebook to his chest. "So I'm supposed to be looking at _girls_, Aya-chan. It's a girl I'm supposed to be "destined to be with," as you put it."   
    Aya seemed quite upset by that, her wide eyes shining with a faint sheen of tears. "Why says, huh? That's stupid! I don't like bein' a girl 'cause there're things they let boys do that girl's can't. People are people, so why does it matter what's down there, huh?"   
    Ran flushed as he understood Aya's meaning. Yes, they really needed to take away her romance novels.   
    "That shouldn't matter, Niichan. I want you to be happy, 'cause you make Aya-chan happy. And that boy wants to be happy too, but he's lost in a dark and sad place, an' I wanna help him. 'Sides, I think you'll like him."   
    There was no point in trying to argue with her, he decided. The only person Ran knew that was more stubborn than him was his little sister—he'd been a little too good of a teacher in that respect. "Come on, Aya-chan, let's get home before Kaasan and Otousan send out the police."   
    Aya giggled, allowing him to ruffled her fringe as he walked past. "Niichan, you say the silliest things!"     _Not half as silly as you_, he thought with a wry smile. _No, not by half._   


Maybe Aya had applied a little pressure that had piqued his interest, but he couldn't place all the blame with her—well, not without lying, anyway. She certainly hadn't helped matters though, throwing him sidelong glances all through dinner, poking him later when they were supposed to be doing their homework and looking pointedly towards his bed, where the blue notebook lay.   


    No, in the end, it had been his choice—insofar as any driving curiosity is choice. He couldn't help it, really. It was just that—simple, child's curiosity—that finally drove him to crack the cover of the mysterious blue notebook later that night, long after Aya and his parents had gone to sleep.   
    On the inside of the cover, printed in fairly neat English, it said:   
    _I belong to Ken Hidaka._   
    Hidaka… The name didn't sound familiar to Ran, so the boy probably didn't go to his junior high. Not that it was really unusual for Tokyo—there were a lot of boys who didn't go to his junior high.   
    Glancing at the first page of slightly-worn college rule, Ran squinted to try and read the faded kanji and kana that had been written in graphite.   


_Dear Journal-thing—_  


    _I still say this is stupid, and I don't see why Sister's making us do this, but Natsuki-chan said if I didn't do it, she'd cry and beat me up. God, if you're really real like Sister says you are, make me get tall real soon, okay? I'm tired of the girls picking on me all the time!   
    Natsuki-chan also said I should write stuff in this, like my feelings. I think that's kind of…well, you know, *girly* and stuff. I suppose I can try (I feel kind of stupid, though).   
    My name is Hidaka Ken, and I'm twelve years old. I live in an orphanage in downtown Tokyo with Sister, Natsuki, and a bunch of other kids. I don't really have many friends, but I like to think I'm a nice person. My kaasan died in a crash when I was about nine—I think. Since Otousan didn't want me (that's why Kaasan left), and I can't remember where we lived before Kaasan and I moved to Tokyo, I had to live in the orphanage here. It's nice, I guess. The food's pretty good, and there's a park about ten minutes away where I practise soccer every day after school. I really like soccer—I wanna be in the J-league someday.   
    Well, Sister says it's dinnertime, so I'm gonna go. Ummm, bai-bai.
_   


    Ran laughed a little and shook his head. This boy came across as somewhat brash and cocky in his writing, and yet earlier, when they'd run into each other, he'd seemed shy—scared, even. Flipping through the pages quickly, he noticed that there were quite a number of entries; the journal probably spanned at least a year if not more. Maybe a clue could be found in later entries that would explain the change.   


_Dear Journal—  
_

    Bad things have been happening lately.   
    Hideaki had to leave today. He said something bad to Sister, and started to wave a knife around. I was kind of scared, but then Sister's eyes did that weird glowly thing and Hideaki dropped the knife and left. He didn't take his stuff though, so I wonder if he's coming back…  
    Uh-oh. Natsuki's screaming at me. I'll be right back.   


    There were a few doodles that broke up the entry—a knife, a cross, and a star, all of which seemed to be decorated in blood.   


    _I don't know what to write, journal—or what to think or what to feel. Natsuki just told me that Hideaki got his by a city bus, right by her school. I don't know if she saw it or not, but it kind of felt that way. I keep hearing these weird noises in my head now—screeches, thumps, wet cracking sounds, and screams. And I can almost smell rubber and smoke and blood. But, worst of all, I can *see* it. I can see Hideaki's body, all crumpled and broken, bent in the wrong places, covered in dirt and red stuff. I almost can't recognise his face, but I know those hands—he taught me how to play the piano with those hands, and now…  
    …God, if you're real, can I have my Kaasan and Otousan back, now? I know I don't remember them too well, but I could really use a hug right now.
_   


    Ran's eyes were wide, and he realised after a moment that he'd bitten his lip clean through. Tongue darting out, he winced at the stinging sensation, the brief copper tang in his mouth. What awful, awful things for a child to have to deal with.   
    He thumbed through a few more entries, mostly dealing with Ken's soccer team and school. Natsuki was mentioned a few times, as was Sister, but not very often. After about a year's worth of entries, Aya found another one that piqued his interest.   


_Hey, Journal!   
_

    I made a new friend today. His name is Kase Kouichirou, and his family just moved in to the house at the end of the block. He's older than me and seems a lot more serious, but I don't care—he likes *soccer*.  
    Natsuki's been real quiet lately. I'm not sure what's going on, but she won't talk to me about it. She goes out late at night and comes back with sticky red stuff on her hands. I watched her wash it off in the bathroom last night and she started crying. More bad stuff, I think.   
    I tried to talk to Sister about it, but she says it was just a bad dream, that it didn't really happen. …I think she lied to me, journal.   
    I think Natsuki's doing bad things. I think a lot of the kids are doing bad things, and I think Sister might know about it. Why would people lie to me? Aren't I part of the orphanage gang anymore?   
    Jeez, I was happy when I started writing and now I'm all depressed. I think I'm gonna go and kick the soccer ball around some. Maybe I'll feel better then.   


    Most of the entries were full of mundane commentary, things that made Ran feel close to the boy whose journal he was reading. But some…some of the entries were more familiar than others, and made him wonder if, perhaps, he didn't know the boy after all.   


    _I had a real dream last night. It wasn't like all those pretend dreams you have all the time. This one was real, like something that's going to happen to me in the future—I could tell. I was a cat, hunting in the night. I could feel cool air ruffling my fur as I bared my teeth and claws at my prey. I caught something, and I remember killing it, tearing its flesh, feasting on its blood…  
    Kase laughed and said I was weird. I don't care, though. J-League scouts are coming to the city finals' match at the end of next month and *have* to be ready. I gotta leave here soon.   
    Maybe Kase can go, too. Maybe, God, if you're real.
_   


    It wasn't until a tear splashed onto the page, darkening the paper, that Ran realised he was crying. Ken's dream was so familiar, not unlike dreams that he, himself, had. But that final desperation… Ran also understood that, all too easily, and he ached for a boy he didn't know.   
    He _cared_ for a boy he didn't know, and that frightened him more than any prank Aya could ever pull. Because Ran, though he loved fiercely, was afraid of loving people.     Because people made you vulnerable.   


* * *

He'd lain awake all night yesterday, and thought about it all day during school. He'd been so distracted that two of his teacher had to reprimand him, which had been very embarrassing for someone who was used to earning his teachers' praises. He hadn't even really thought about the family trip to Sendai on the weekend, and he'd been looking forward to that for _months_!   


    Had what he'd done been wrong? True, he'd been curious to look at the journal, but now that he had… Maybe it was because what he'd read had disturbed him so much. Maybe it was because in reading the journal, he had actually felt connected to someone that wasn't his family.   
    …Maybe it was because he had actually felt something _big_ for someone what wasn't his family.   
    Swinging his legs over his bed, he padded to his door and down the stairs, hoping that his father would be in his accustomed after-dinner corner.   
    Sure enough, the elder Fujimiya was ensconced in a rocking chair in his study, the paper held up before him like a barrier against the outside world. Hesitating for a moment, Ran knocked against the doorframe. When his father looked up, he ducked his head in a sketchy, somewhat impolite bow.   
    "Excuse me, Otousan…"  
    The Fujimiya peered at him over the top of the paper, a small smile on his lips. "Yes?"   
    "…If you… If you had something of someone else's, and you looked at it without asking, is that bad?"   
    "Well, kind of. You see, if they didn't give you permission, you shouldn't be looking at it."   
    "Oh. Well… Well what if it told you something kind of important? Not about the person, but about yourself?"   
    The Fujimiya laid his paper aside, looking his son square in the face. "While what you have done is still wrong, as long as the knowledge you have gained won't hurt others, it is forgivable."   
    Ran bit his lip. Won't hurt others… How could he possibly tell his father, now, that he'd found his perfect counterpart through he journal of an orphan boy a year his junior? "What if…what if you don't mean the knowledge to me hurtful, but it accidentally is?"   
    "Well that, too, will eventually be forgiven. It is somewhat dishonourable in lying and using other means of subterfuge to conceal your activities. It can be necessary at times to employ such methods, though—say, for preventing devastating, wide-spread panic. If you hadn't wanted to deceive, but you felt it was best for all parties involved, then that, too, would be forgiven."   
    Ran bowed to his father. "Thank you, Otousan. You have given me much to think upon."   
    The Fujimiya chuckled, reclaiming his paper. "Just don't stay up too late thinking, Ran. We leave early for Sendai."   
    "Of course, Otousan."   
    His father's words in mind, he headed back for bed and for the refuge of sleep. There would be plenty of time to think on their vacation.   


* * *

Sendai was awash with noise and colour. Already Aya had laden him with shopping bags, one of which had contained a particularly loud orange sweatshirt that Aya insisted would be perfect for him. He'd tried to point out to her that orange was one of the worst colours he could wear, but she had persisted in tying it around his waist and wouldn't hear a word in protest—just as she had with the orange sweater at Christmas time a few months ago.   


    He was beginning to tire of the rush and crush of people, the loud voices and other noises of celebration, and the weight of the girl clinging to him like a limpet. Ran craned his head around in a disconcerted effort to keep his balance, stumbling every so often as Aya tugged on his arm.   
    "Niichan, look over there!" or "Hey, what about that?" or "Kyaaa, that boy was so cute!"   
    Eventually they came to one of the expansive parks, where Aya began to twirl, arms held out at her sides. "Eh? What's this? They call it Aoba City, and I thought there'd be some great big city here! Seems there's only a shrine after all… But the sakura flowers are so beautiful! Hey, Oniichan, let's take a picture, a picture! Otousan, take it for us!"   
    Ran grimaced, trying to pull away. Really, was it too much to ask for time alone? "Nooo...don't wanna! Aya!"   
    Their father laughed, motioning for them to stand together. "How about right under that tree there? Oh, be a good sport, Ran."     "Otousan!"   
    Aya began to pout, nibbling on her bottom lip. "But why? Don't tell me you don't like your cute little sister hanging on your arm?" She smiled up at him brilliantly, batting her eyelashes.   
    Ran found himself blushing at her flirtatious attitude. "Yeah, that's right; I don't like it."   
    She stomped her foot, handing her camera to her father before she launched herself at her brother with a laugh. Arms yoked around his neck, she said, "What a thing to say! Girls don't like that sort of attitude, you know. Come on, come on, Oniichan, smiiile!"   
    A brief flash of light, the quiet shutter of the camera, and the ordeal was over. Aya danced forward to take her camera back, laughter ringing through the park like a bell.   
    Well, at least one of them was happy. Sighing, he glanced in askance towards his parents. "Okaasan, Otousan, may I look around Sendai alone?"   
    The elder Fujimiya frowned, looking over at his wife who smiled and nodded. "I suppose, Ran. Try not to be gone any longer than an hour or two, all right? Meet us back at the hotel."   
    "Thank you," Ran said, bowing with relief. He detached himself from his sister with an apologetic grin and dashed down the sidewalk, orange sweatshirt a beacon wrapped around his waist, eager to see the sights on his own.   
    "That boy," the Fujimiya said with a chuckle, shaking his head.   
    Aya, however, wasn't happy about the new situation. She frowned, clutching her camera to her chest as she looked around. She was surprised how crowded Sendai was—it seemed as though everyone had decided to visit today—and the press of people reminded her of home. But, as she'd said earlier, the sakura petals were gorgeous…  
    "Sorry!"   
    The hastily said apology came as a boy stumbled into her, sending her off kilter and into her mother's side. Straightening herself, Aya smiled, brushing her skirt off. "Oh, it's all right. No harm…done."   
    It was funny, she thought, how colours could flow so effortlessly into one another. There was absolutely not transition that she could note as eyes flew from murky brown to pale sea blue, the pupil swimming through like a dark blight. She gaped, mouth working for a few breaths before she found her voice. "Hey, you're the boy my Niichan ran into the other day!"   
    The eyes blinked, their owner staring blankly for a moment, fingers sliding through seal-brown strands. "Ummm…"  
    "On Thursday, after school? It was right outside of the Sanrio store in Shinjuku, I think. You, ummm…you both spilt your bags all over the ground. The redhead was my brother, Ran."   
    A light of understanding seemed to go on in the boy's head, a hesitant smile gracing his impish features. "Oh, yeah. I don't suppose you found a blue notebook, did you? I wasn't able to find it when I got back home."   
    Aya smiled inside, but outwardly her eyes went wide as she shook her head. "I don't think so. You might try looking for my brother and asking him, though." She glanced over his shoulder, grinning outwardly when she spotted him standing in front of a store window, still in sight. "He's the one with the bright orange sweater around his waist. You'll have to hurry if you want to catch him, though."   
    Sure enough, as soon as the words left her mouth, Ran began to disappear around the corner.   
    The boy's eyes widened. "Thanks!" He began to race down the walkway, darting in between people with frightening ease until he, too, was lost from sight.   
    "Well now, what was that all about?" Aya's mother asked, laying a hand to her daughter's shoulder.   
    Aya simply smiled, clutching her camera to her chest. "Oh, nothing. Hey, Kaasan, can I go look around too? I promise to be back by the time Ran-niichan is."   
    "Oh, I suppose. But, here, take my umbrella." Her mother looked up at the sky, at the clouds that could be seen building in dense, rolling folds of blue and grey. "Looks like we might have rain before too long."   
    "Thanks, Kaasan!" She hugged her mother before taking the umbrella, pausing to hug her father's arm as well. "See you soon!" she carolled, skipping down the sidewalk in a path that followed her brother and the boy.   
    The Fujimiyas sighed, sharing a look and thinking, _Children_.   


Ran had probably made it a good twelve blocks before he realised he was being followed. Pausing at the corner of the street, he turned his head to look over his shoulder, scanning the people behind him. None of them seemed to being paying attention to him, but…  


    A single, cold drop hit him on the nose tip, making him go cross-eyed as he tried to look at it. Rubbing at his nose, he looked up at the sky with a scowl. Great, just what he needed: Rain.   
    As if in response to his thought, the rain began to fall in earnest, sending people ducking into stores and under awnings for cover. Grimacing, Ran turned back to seek shelter in the alleyway, and was surprised to find himself sprawled gracelessly on the sidewalk, his forehead aching.   
    "Owww…"  
    Shaking his head, Ran sat up, peering into the alley. Another boy was sprawled in a similar position, head cradled in his hands. His sneakers were well-worn, laces untied, and his shorts and t-shirt had definitely seen better days. By the time Ran had made his observations, his hair was beginning to stick to his head.   
    Scrambling to his feet, he darted into the alley, pulling the boy after him.   
    "Hey, watch it!" the boy snapped, trying to yank his arm free.   
    "Do you want to get any wetter than we already are?"   
    His reply was sullen silence, and Ran took that as grudging permission to find them both shelter. They exited the alley at the other end, and after a quick look around, Ran pulled the boy into the small corner alcove of a doorway. He crouched down, rubbing his arms briskly to generate heat. It was a good thing that he'd decided to wear long sleeves that day, he thought.   
    The boy next to him was shivering with the sudden temperature drop, and Ran tugged on his shirt him. "I won't bite."   
    The boy scowled, crouching down, and it was then that Ran realised exactly who he'd run into…again. "You're Ken…"  
    "And you have my journal," Ken said, his eyes shining with emerald green rings filling blue eyes.   
    Ran bit his lip, nodding after a moment. "Yeah."   
    "And you read it."   
    It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and Ran found himself nodding before the idea of lying even crossed his mind. "Yeah, I did."   
    The rain began to pelt the ground, quickly filling the cracks and dips in the cement with water. Ran watched it pool, barely noticing when the brunette began to lean into him, still shivering. "Cold?"   
    "Gee, you think?" Ken snapped, his irritation showing in his face even as he tried to huddle inside his thin clothing.   
    It was hard not to snap back in return, but Ran managed to keep his temper in check. Frowning in thought, he glanced down at his waist, where he could see the knotted sleeves of the horrendous orange sweatshirt Aya had insisted on buying him. He was warm enough in his own clothing, but Ken…  
    "Here," he said, reaching to untie the shirt. "You can put this on. It should keep most of the chill off."   
    Ken turned to him, expression caught somewhere between incredulous and distrustful. He said nothing; simply stared and pursed his lips.   
    Ran began to fidget when the boy continued to stare at him with those oddly coloured eyes. "Well, are you going to take it or not?" he asked, a bit more sharply than he'd intended.   
    Ken jumped, scowling. "I'm thinking, all right?"   
    "What's there to think about? Either you want it or you don't."   
    "Because I'm trying to figure out what you'll want in return—and what I can afford to give you."   
    Ran started at those words, going cold. "Wh-what?"   
    Ken's scowl deepened, sherry-brown spilling over into his eyes. "You heard me."   
    "But I don't expect _anything_ in return!"   
    Both boys were startled as the words tumbled from Ran's lips. Ken reached up after a moment to brush damp tendrils from his eyes, revealing that they'd once again shifted colour, luminous violet wavering with uncertainty. "Really?"   
    It was disconcerting how emotions could change the brunette's eye colour so quickly, but Ran pushed that thought aside. "Really. Aya-chan, my imouto, got it as a joke, and I'll probably never wear it or anything, so you might as well have it, and I look awful in orange anyway, so—"  
    Wet, slightly chill fingers touched his lips, stopping further babbled words. Ken smiled tentatively, accepting the sweatshirt from Ran's lax fingers. "Thank you."   
    There was a moment of silence as Ken struggled into the sweatshirt, during which Ran berated himself for letting his tongue get away from him. Eventually, Ken grew tired of the quiet, punctuated only by the continuous pelting rain, and said, "You're not bad for a rich Tokyo kid."   
    Ran gave him a sour look. "Thanks."   
    Ken grinned. "No problem. Seriously, though, most kids as well off as you wouldn't have done anything so nice."   
    Shrugging, the redhead looked away, feeling a traitorous blush burn across his cheeks. "My parents raised me to treat everyone equally."   
    "Really? Hmmm…"  
    Ran bit his lip again, looking down at his hands. "About your journal…I'm sorry. I just couldn't help reading it."   
    Ken waved it off, the sleeve of the shirt flapping with the movement. "It's okay. I'm surprised it's taken this long for me to lose it." He smiled tentatively, the violet still colouring his eyes. "You'll keep it safe for me, right?"   
    And again, Ran found himself nodding without realising it was his intention.   
    "Good. If you have it…I'm safe."   
    Ran could find nothing to say in reply to that vague comment, so he let it go and continued to huddle next to Ken for warmth.   
    The rain had slowed to a gentle fall, slowly lessening in intensity until it was nothing more than a drizzle.   
    Ken sighed, unconsciously leaning against Ran once again. "I should try and find the orphanage group. Sister's gonna chew me out good…"  
    "And I should go and meet my family," Ran said dully.   
    Ken closed his eyes, shuddering. "I'll probably never see you again. I mean, meeting you here of all places is kind of like one of those miracle thingies that Sister talks about."   
    "…I know."   
    "But I do have one thing I can give you, in return for the shirt and for bein' so nice to me and all."   
    "I already told you that I don't need anything! I don't want—oh."   
    It was a faint pressure, cold, wet lips upon his in a brief instant that was nothing and everything, that made words pointless. Ken pulled back and smiled shyly, pushing up the sleeves of the too-large sweatshirt as he struggled to his feet. "Thanks again—Ran."   
    Ran could only nod dumbly.   
    "And, for what it's worth…I hope we meet again." And then he was gone, disappearing into the puddle-ridden streets of Sendai, a flash of obnoxious orange that, somehow, quickly faded from sight.   
    Ran picked himself up from the ground and dusted his wet pants off as best he could. His parents would scold him for getting so dirty, but he didn't care.   
    He'd just had his first kiss, after all.   
    Whistling, hands in his pockets, he began to walk down the street. 

Aya giggled, hugging her camera to herself as she watched her brother pick himself up with a dazed expression. Oh, what a look to capture on film, her brother's face when the cute brunette boy had darted in to kiss him! Maybe she'd tease him about it later, before bed…. But she wouldn't tell him about the picture. Oh no, not yet; she might need blackmail material later.   


    Still giggling, she picked up her umbrella and set off after her brother. 


End file.
